


A Kiss for Every Year

by ricekrispyjoints



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Birthday, Birthday Party, Kissing game, M/M, NO DEATH, No Titans, everyone has a crush on marco, i guess??? yeah let's go with that, jeanmarco, kissies for the babes, only fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 20:52:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1756749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricekrispyjoints/pseuds/ricekrispyjoints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Marco’s 22nd birthday, and Eren sets out to get his freckled friend a kiss for every year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kiss for Every Year

**Author's Note:**

> This was a silly drabble idea that got out of hand I just wanted some silly kissies between my favorite babes.
> 
> AMAZING huge heartfelt thanks to my beautiful beta cloudmonstachopper who not only helped me clean this up but reminded me that sasha and connie needed to be present bc somehow i forgot that on the first draft???

Marco grimaces through a smile as his friends “sing”—that is, shriek and scream—the “Happy Birthday” song. Plastic cups and aluminum beer cans clank together, sloshing drinks around the room. Marco’s just glad that his apartment has hardwood floors; it’ll be easier to mop up this way.  

Jean’s hands clamp down over his ears and he scowls at the cacophony.  

“And many mooooore!” Eren sings, extending one of his arms behind him and wiggling his fingers like he’s in dance recital. The group, circled around the birthday boy, applauds and laughs at Eren’s ridiculous show.

“Thanks, everyone,” Marco laughs genuinely. “That was… well it was certainly _special_.”

“I think I’m deaf,” Jean complains.

“Shut up,” Eren scolds. “It’s Marco’s birthday and you need to get into the spirit.”

Jean takes a swig of beer from the can in his hands, muttering under his breath something indiscernible among the din.  Someone has turned the stereo system back up, and conversation fills the small apartment that Marco, Eren, and Armin share. Sasha and Connie are arguing about which Star Wars trilogy was better (Sasha swears by the classic, but Connie loves the special effects in the newer trilogy), and Bertl and Reiner edge away from them as the conversation gets more and more intense.

Jean is the last to admit it, but he’s jealous that Marco has so many friends. Seriously, _everyone_ loves Marco. Despite his occasional shyness, he seems to know everyone, and somehow he’s also friendly ninety percent of the time. Jean just isn’t that social, and to be honest, can be kind of an asshole. He’s tried being nicer once, but it was exhausting, and Marco assured him that he liked Jean just the way he was, prickly or not.

“So, twenty two,” Eren says, clapping Marco on the back. “You ready?”

“Ready for what?” Marco asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“There’s this tradition, see. On your birthday, you’re supposed to get a kiss for every year you’ve been alive,” Eren explains. “It’s a lot more fun now that we’re older. When you’re little it’s just embarrassing.”

“Um, no thanks,” Marco says politely over Jean’s barking laughter.

“That’s literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of, Jaeger,” Jean smirks, but his brain short circuits. He’s glad he’s buzzed from the alcohol, because the heat that spreads through his skin is suffocating: if anyone asks why his face is bright red, he can blame it on the beer. Nevertheless, he picks at his purple v-neck, trying to covertly fan himself.

“Fuck you, Kirschtein. It’ll be fun. Come on, Marco, what do you say? It can be a kiss on the cheek if you want. It’s tradition.”

“It’s not tradition if no one besides you has ever heard of it,” Jean grumbles. _If this is some dumb excuse for Jaeger to mack on Marco, I’m not about to let that happen._ _He’s_ my _best friend; he’s_ my _… Something. “Unrequited crush?” Something._

“I’ve heard of it, too,” Reiner says, wandering into the conversation. “Not that I’ve ever done it, but I _have_ heard of it.”

“Yes!” Eren yells, pumping a fist in the air. “Told you!”

Marco looks into his cup for a second then downs it, wipes foam off his upper lip, and says, “Yeah, alright. Why not?”

 _Shit,_ Jean thinks. _Now I’m gonna have to watch everyone kiss Marco. A valid excuse to kiss him and I can’t. I can’t do it; definitely not in front of everyone._

Jean’s crush on Marco has been steadily building over the past few months. He’s never really concerned himself with labels—straight, bi, gay, whatever—but after last summer, when they had been camp counselors together, there was no point in denying it.

He realized during those six weeks that what he felt for his friend, his best friend since junior high, _had_ to be more than just platonic love. He didn’t just want to spend all his time with Marco, but he wanted to be close to him physically. He was constantly torn between making up excuses to touch his friend and making sure not to touch him at all. Every fist bump and ‘bro-hug’ became a test of Jean’s will because why did Marco smell so _good_ and God, those tight black jeans he’s wearing tonight make his ass look---

Eren whoops emphatically, breaking Jean out of his reverie.  Jaeger then climbs onto a chair and clapping his hands. “Attention please, everyone! Listen up! Hey! I will destroy you all if you don’t _shut up!_ ” The talking stops and Armin hastens to turn down the stereo again.

The group settles down at Eren’s ridiculous outburst of anger and waits for Eren to explain himself.

“That Rage Against the Machine shirt sure is fitting,” Jean murmurs. Marco bites his lip to stifle a chuckle.

“Get on with it, yelly boy!” Sasha calls out when Eren doesn’t speak up right away. The room bursts into snickers.

Eren gives her a pointed glare and a frown, but carries on. “As you all know, it’s our good friend Marco’s twenty second birthday today!” Eren announces.

“Yeah, we know, idiot, we literally just sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to him two minutes ago,” Annie says.

Eren resolutely ignores her and continues, “And in keeping with tradition, we need to find our man twenty-two kisses for his twenty-two years! Who’s up first?”

This second announcement is also followed up with cheers, whistles, and a few “ow-oww”s. Jean shifts nervously on his feet, crossing his arms self-consciously, watching to see who was going to kiss his friend.

Reiner, already standing next to Marco, raises his hand and moves toward the center of the room. A chorus of laughter chimes, and Reiner grins. He grabs Marco by the sides of his face and plants a big, wet kiss on Marco’s amused-yet-startled lips.

Jean stares, simultaneously horrified and jealous.

When Reiner pulls away with a big smack, Marco’s cheeks are painted pink with a shy blush. Reiner just spreads his arms out wide and says, “That’s one! Only twenty one left to go, Marco!”

The group cheers, and Mikasa comes forward, tugging her signature red scarf down a bit. Jean thinks the room might have gotten quieter, but he’s not sure if it’s his imagination or not.

Mikasa curls a hand under Marco’s chin and gives him a soft, chaste kiss on the cheek. “Happy birthday, Marco,” she says warmly. “Twenty more!”  

“Is this seriously a tradition for you guys?” Jean asks Mikasa before she returns to the group.

“Yeah, I guess,” she says. “We never did it that much, personally, since Eren’s kind of a brat and no one ever wanted to kiss him.”

Jean interrupts her with a snort, but she continues, “It was more popular at high school parties, but I guess some adults do it too.”

“Seems weird.”

“Lighten up, Jean. It’s supposed to be fun,” she says, and drifts back to her spot next to Annie.

Connie shoves Armin forward next, the blond bashful and avoiding eye contact at all costs. He tries to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, but it’s not quite long enough and just falls back into his eyes right away. Instead of his standard hoodie-and-jeans look, Armin is wearing a green button-up shirt tucked into charcoal slacks; Jean wonders if someone put him up to dressing up, or if this is what he wears to all the parties he goes to. Armin has always been somewhat socially awkward, blurting out weird statements unprompted, trailing behind Eren, usually too lost in thought to participate much in a non-academic conversation.

Finally plucking up the courage though, Armin stretches up on his tip-toes to meet Marco’s mouth. It’s not much more than a peck on the lips, and the two young men blush furiously as they step back.

Jean crosses his arms tighter, fighting the knot in his stomach. _Why is Marco blushing? That was barely a kiss. Does he like Armin? Is Armin into Marco? Shut up, shut up, shut up!_ Jean shakes his head as though it could derail the train of thought.

Laughter and hollers ring out around the living room, and Jean comes back to focus. “Nineteen,” Armin says a bit weakly. He returns to his spot in the circle, still flushed. Everyone looks around expectantly, waiting to see who else will kiss Marco.

Finally, someone from the back of the room gets up, and this time a hush _does_ fall over the room as a short, dark-haired man moves forward, parting the crowd like a queen down the carpet. Marco straightens up instinctively. “Levi!”

 _Who the hell invites their TA to their birthday party?_ Jean thinks. _And what kind of TA actually goes?_

“Relax, kid.” Levi puts his hands on Marco’s shoulders, dragging him down to the smaller man’s level.

“I didn’t even know you had shown up,” Marco says.

“Hm,” is Levi’s only response. He noses into Marco’s cheek a bit before caressing the birthday boy’s lips with a soft kiss.

Eyebrows flee into hairlines faster than the speed of sound.

A few surprised gasps and chuckles echo around the room, but no one dares say much of anything else for a moment.

“Eighteen!” Eren calls, and the group roars up a new cheer.

 “Thank you for coming to my party,” Marco offers. Levi is already returning to his seat in the back, but throws a nonchalant wave over his shoulder.

Annie struts forward next. She’s all dressed up for the party, wearing a sequined black top and black-wash skinny jeans with strappy heels. Her hair looks ever the same, though; her loose bangs cover the intensity of her eyes until she tosses her head to get them out of her way.

The grin she gives Marco is downright carnivorous, and Jean could swear he sees Marco gulp like a cartoon. Annie may be tiny, but her presence fills the room, and is absolutely commanding. She spreads her legs shoulder width apart—that is, Marco’s shoulder width apart—and wraps her hands around the back of his neck, pulling him down to her face, slotting her hips against his. She stares into his deep brown eyes for a moment, and Marco looks like he’s about to explode.

Finally, Annie leans forward, towards Marco’s lips and _ever_ so slightly… pecks him on the cheek.

Connie bursts into laughter almost violently while Sasha manages an impressive wolf whistle.

Someone in the back calls “I thought Marco was gonna have an aneurysm!” and the whole room roars with laughter.

 Jean deflates with a sigh of relief. He doesn’t know if he can stomach someone putting some real moves on Marco right in front of him.

“What the hell, Annie?” Jean laughs outrageously. “All that build-up for a troll kiss? You gave poor Marco a friggin’ heart attack!” _And me_ , Jean added privately.

Annie’s only reply is to yell “Seventeen!” at the top of her lungs and she puts up bullhorns and sticks out her tongue.

“Alright, figure it’s my turn,” Eren declares. He steps around the coffee table to position himself in front of Marco and leans in, lips pursed almost comically. He slides his hand up Marco’s jaw and his eyelids flutter closed. Jean is stifling his laughter as best as he can, which, admittedly, is not very well.

To Jean’s surprise though, Marco’s face is dead serious, at least the half of his face that he can see. Eren’s hand is blocking out the right side.

As soon as their lips touch, though, Marco flinches, his face scrunching up in discomfort.  Even from Jean’s vantage point, he can see that Eren is trying to slip Marco the tongue. Marco’s lips are pursed as tight as they’ll go, but Eren’s tongue still laves over Marco’s mouth.

Jean tenses instinctively and debates how long he has to put up with this.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Jean says after no more than five seconds, pulling Eren off his friend by the shoulder. Marco coughs discreetly, trying not to look too put-out.

 Eren is pouting, so Armin takes up the mantle: “Sixteen!” he announces.

Marco glances at Jean, but as soon as they make eye contact, Marco’s eyes dart away as quickly as he can. It isn’t quite fast enough.

“Oh-ho, think you’re getting out of this one, Kirschstein? Time to step up,” Eren says, swallowing his embarrassment from the moment before quite admirably.

“No, come on, man. Marco doesn’t want me to kiss him,” Jean says, heart racing. He’s trying to play it cool, but Eren either isn’t convinced or doesn’t care. Connie’s obnoxious laughter rings out again. Jean wonders if he ever stopped laughing.

“Sure he does. He just gave you the once over,” Eren says with a wink. “And besides, if we’re gonna get to twenty-two, everyone here has to kiss him at least once.”

Jean looks around the room at who hasn’t kissed Marco yet. Connie and Sasha haven’t—they’re too busy laughing at the proceedings—and neither has Bertl, who wipes his ever-sweaty palms on a truly spectacular yellow turtle-neck shirt.

Erwin is at the back table with Levi, but Jean prays that he won’t come up for a turn. Thomas Wagner is playing with a spork in the corner; Christa and Ymir are barely paying attention to Marco’s party anymore, engrossed in some intimate conversation. Even if they all kissed Marco, that still left nine kisses; eight if Jean counted himself.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Marco says, jamming his hands into the pockets of those too-tight jeans.

“More kissing for the rest of us,” Eren teases. Marco looks terribly embarrassed at Eren’s remark, and somehow Jean feels like he’s being a bad friend if he doesn’t kiss Marco now.

 _Well there’s a thought I never thought I’d have. I thought I was being a good friend by_ not _kissing him,_ Jean thinks.

 He feels protective of Marco because Eren is, quite frankly, embarrassing. _Jean_ should be the only one who gets to embarrass Marco.  _Jean_ should be the only one who gets to kiss Marco.

But if he makes too big of a deal about it, everyone will know something is up. Plus, it might hurt Marco’s feelings if he gets too defensive about not wanting to kiss Marco. Jean knows himself, and he doesn’t want to say something he would regret. Not about this.

“Fine, come here,” he says to Marco, finally letting out the breath he had been subconsciously holding. Jean shuffles his weight back and forth a couple of times.

What tactic does he use? The casual, can-totally-be-written-off-as-platonic peck on the cheek? Armin kissed him on the lips; but Marco looked so embarrassed. Annie had been over the top and sexy, but in the end didn’t really kiss him. Would that be better? Should he do like Reiner did and just plant one on him? Marco had blushed, too, but it was the first kiss, so maybe it was more shocking than the others?

Jean’s thinking too much. He decides that he only cares about not making Marco too uncomfortable. Jean is, as a rule, not a very physically demonstrative person even with his closest friends or past romantic endeavors. He doesn’t mean to be cold, it’s just not really his instinct to initiate physical contact with others.

Especially not others he’s trying desperately not to reveal his feelings to. If Marco found out about Jean’s feelings, he’s not sure what he would do. Die of embarrassment ranks fairly high on the list. Next is begging Marco not to let his silly feelings ruin their friendship. Jean would rather stay friends than to risk it all, but right now the option is pretty tempting.

Maybe too tempting.

He licks his lips, and Marco’s eyes flick down to watch Jean’s tongue dart back into his mouth.

“Fuck it,” Jean sighs, and cupping Marco’s jaw with his left hand and placing his right on Marco’s hip, Jean presses his lips to his best friend’s.

A chorus of “whoo”s and Sasha’s wolf whistle rises up around them, but Jean isn’t paying attention. All he can hear is the beating of his own heart in his ears; all he can focus on is his chest tightening with nervous giddiness.

Marco leans into him, deepening the kiss. Jean inhales sharply, surprised at Marco’s reaction, but his grip instinctively tightens and he responds to the way Marco’s lips move against his.

It’s more amazing than Jean’s imagination, the sensation of Marco against his mouth, against his chest. The smell of Marco fills his nostrils, the heat of Marco’s skin that fills him with want.

Finally, Jean pulls back from Marco with a soft, slightly wet noise. No one says a word. Jean doesn’t know how long they kissed for, but he’s guessing longer than socially acceptable. He opens his eyes. Marco is already staring at him, warmth radiating in his chocolate-brown eyes.

The room erupts in applause.

“Fifteen?” Jean says shyly. Looking away from Marco, he jams his hands into his pockets. His face is burning hot with embarrassment. _Did I just fuck this up?_

He dares to look back up at his friend whose face Jean can’t quite describe. Marco looks a little drunk, a little dazed, and incredibly happy, a big, dopey grin plastered on his freckled cheeks.

“Jean?” he asks.

Jean tries to read Marco’s face, waiting for him to say something more, to do something more. Now it’s Marco’s turn to blush. Jean bites the insides of his cheeks to keep the nervous laughter inside from bubbling out.

“Holy shit,” Sasha states matter-of-factly, breaking the tension.

“Damn, Kirschstein,” Connie says, letting out a low whistle.

Armin just stares; Mikasa bumps into his shoulder to keep him from staring too long.

“Who’s up next?” Eren asks, voice cracking. “I know that was a tough act to follow, but…” A nervous laugh bubbles around the room.

“Give him some space, Eren, my god,” Annie says. “Jean just went to town on him and you’re trying to line up the queue? Kid needs a breather.”  

“I’m next,” Jean blurts, some of his laughter escaping. He’s just kissed his best friend who he’s had a crush on for almost six months now, and he’s damned if he’s going to let someone else do the same. Given the fact that Marco hasn’t slapped him in the face or run from the room, he thinks now is probably his best chance to kiss him again.

Jean Kirschtein is many things, but indecisive isn’t one of them. He doesn’t think things through and he acts impulsively and oh god he hopes he won’t really desperately regret this but he is all in, cards on the table.

“Jean?” Marco asks, eyebrows raised. _Is that hope in his voice?_ Jean wonders.

 “You just went,” Eren whines, but Armin punches him in the arm to hush him up.

Jean ignores Jaeger and surges toward Marco, knocking them both up against the wall.

This time Marco’s hand rakes through Jean’s hair, and they hold each other close enough that they’re chest to chest, no space between them.

Jean very carefully licks at Marco’s lips, testing Marco’s reaction to his tongue. Marco licks back, albeit somewhat clumsily and Jean pulls back with a smack.

“Fourteen,” he announces, and goes straight back to Marco’s mouth. He doesn’t stay there long, though, and begins to trail kisses along Marco’s jaw, eliciting a moan.

“Thirteen”—kiss—“Twelve”—kiss—“Eleven”—kiss.

The group chants along, some more enthusiastically than others: Connie and Sasha are clutching to each other like proud parents watching their child at her first Little League game; Armin grabs Eren’s arms and swings them around like an orchestra conductor, though Eren remains committed to his sulk; Christa counts excitedly, a sparkle in her eyes and a giggle in her voice while Ymir watches her intently but with softness.

Jean is pulled back to Marco’s lips, but he’s not ready to give up control just yet. He grinds his hips against Marco and licks against his mouth.

“Ten,” he says with a mischievous smirk on his face. _Then_ Jean lets Marco get his revenge.

Marco takes Jean’s shoulders and turns them around so Jean is against the wall now.  The chanting peters out, and is replaced by awkward laughter and a few coughs.

Jean and Marco are in a different world, though. Marco’s starting to figure out how to use his tongue, and Jean lets him test out different strategies. Marco’s tongue ventures along the inside of Jean’s upper lip for number nine; it strokes along the roof of his mouth for number eight. He tries sucking on Jean’s tongue for number seven, but it makes a sort of raspberry sound and they both get embarrassed.

Kiss six is more reserved as they recover from the ridiculous sound they made, but Marco dares to dip his tongue into Jean’s mouth for kiss five.

Kiss four is quick, deep, and wet, and Jean pulls back noisily.

“Are you keeping count?” Jean asks breathlessly. _Stupid question_. For a split second, Jean is afraid Marco will remember why they’re kissing and stop him.

Marco responds by kissing him hard for number three, and Jean hikes his leg up around Marco’s ass, running his hands over Marco’s freckled shoulders, bared by his blue and white striped tank top _._

Two is really more a continuation of three, but with a breath in between.

Their last kiss is less of a kiss, and more of resting, their mouths together, not wanting to let go of each other.

“Happy birthday, Marco,” Jean sighs into Marco’s mouth and finally lets go.

The party comes back into focus, and Jean realizes that everyone has withdrawn to the other side of the apartment, some in the kitchen, or at the back table watching Levi and Erwin play poker, pretending not to watch the two boys making out in the living room.

Jean feels his cheeks heat up, and where Marco’s hands grip his hips is hot, too.

 _I just made out with my best friend in front of a room full of people,_ Jean thinks to himself. He’s partly proud, but mostly mortified.

“Yeah, yeah, what are you staring at?” he says sharply. “Someone turn the music back up.”

Sasha murmurs a “sweet baby bread rolls” and Connie just nods in agreement.

Levi snaps his fingers sharply to grab Connie’s attention. “Am I dealing you in or not, moron?” the TA asks.

Someone finally turns the music up, probably Armin again, and conversation returns to the party.

Jean’s instinct is to bolt, find a bottle of hard alcohol and pretend that he didn’t just do that. He fights it for about two seconds, and then all but sprints out of Marco’s apartment and stops in the hallway.

_Marco sure seemed into it, so it can’t be too terrible, right?_

Once in the hallway, Jean pulls the door shut, letting it _snk_ softly before he slides down against the wall. He rubs his hands over his face and sighs.

A moment later, the door opens and Jean jumps to his feet, heart crawling up his throat.

“Hey,” Marco says with a smile. He licks his lips and seems to be searching for words.

Jean decides to start. “So I can explain that,” he tries.

“Please don’t,” Marco says.

“Huh?”

“You don’t need to explain, Jean.”

 _Fuck._ “I really didn’t mean to make out with you, man.”

“Jean, it’s alright.”

Jean knows he should stop talking, knows his propensity for putting his foot in his mouth and saying things he shouldn’t, but it all comes spilling out of him anyway. “I didn’t really want to kiss you at first because I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while but I didn’t want to mess things up because you’re my best friend and I fucking love you. Shit. Not like—well maybe—I—Shit—“

“Jean.”

“Anyway I really didn’t mean to but then you seemed kinda into it and then I got kinda really into it so I just kind of kept going and I feel like a complete—“

“JEAN,” Marco says forcefully. He grabs Jean’s shoulders and looks him directly in the eye. Jean freezes.

“I _said_ you don’t need to explain. I know.”

“You… know?” Jean’s voice cracks.

“Yeah,” Marco says lightly, “or at least, I was pretty sure. You’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are.” He reaches into Jean’s hair to return an errant tuft back to its rightful place. His hands are gentle, and Jean feels himself melt a little.

“Sorry?” Jean offers.

“Please don’t be,” Marco responds. “When Eren suggested the game, I agreed because I knew it meant I could kiss you. I didn’t exactly foresee you stealing sixteen kisses – not that I’m opposed—but I thought it might be a nice kind of icebreaker? I wasn’t sure how to bring up the subject, honestly.”

“You actually… You wanted to kiss me too?”

“Yeah, ever since last summer at camp. You made those khaki shorts look _so_ good,” Marco laughs.

“Shut up,” Jean says, but he’s beaming and doesn’t mean it at all.

“So… Can I kiss you again?” Jean asks after a moment.

“I’m only twenty two,” Marco smirks.

“Shut up,” Jean says again.

They close the space between them, and exchange quiet, slow kisses in the hallway.

After a few minutes, they slide down the wall together, and Marco rests his head on Jean’s shoulder. Jean wraps his arm around Marco, and they just sit there, holding each other and stealing little kisses every now and then.

“Shouldn’t we get back to your party?” Jean asks.

“Probably,” Marco says, muffled by Jean’s hoodie. “But I’m pretty comfortable, so maybe not just yet?”

“Whatever you want, birthday boy.” They kiss again, lingering and with smiles touching the corners of their mouths.

The door swings open.

“What is it, Eren?” Jean growls, but it’s a blond head pops out.

“Oh, there you are. You ready for cake?” Armin asks as though nothing is out of the ordinary, his friends tangled up in each other on the floor in an apartment hallway.

“Um, give us just a minute,” Marco replies.

“Eren’s got a camera out. He was going to come out here and ambush you guys, but I talked him out of it. He’ll probably take pictures inside, though, just fair warning.”

“Fucking Jeager,” Jean grumbles.

Marco kisses him lightly. “Be nice, please.”

When they enter the apartment, they get a few cheers and claps.

“I totally called this happening,” Connie claims.

Eren is at the kitchen table, brandishing a knife over the frosted sheet cake.

“Pink icing? Really?” Jean teases.

“It’s strawberry,” Marco explains, and swipes a finger in it. He licks some of the frosting off, and after a second’s hesitation, dabs the rest on Jean’s nose.

“Do you want to cut the cake?” Mikasa asks, “or would you like me to do it?”

“I’ll do it,” Marco assures her, and sets to dividing up the cake and handing out plates. Jean passes out the plastic forks.

When they’re all settled into the front room, Annie speaks up. “That was quite a show earlier, Jean.”

Jean almost chokes on his cake.

Marco just smiles.

“Marco seemed to like it, too,” Sasha adds.

Jean knows they’re fishing for information, but he doesn’t know what to say. They didn’t get that far yet. Fortunately, Marco is remarkably calm and easy going about it.

“Yes, ladies, we like each other. That’s all we’re saying for now. So what does everyone think of the cake?”

A few mumbled agreements and compliments buzz around, and then conversation returns to normal.

“Thanks,” Jean says. “You handled that way better than I did.”

“It’s fine,” Marco assures him, nudging him with his shoulder. “I’m really happy,” he adds after a minute.

“You deserve to be. Of everyone I know, you deserve to be the happiest.”

In his peripherals, Jean can see Connie and Sasha wiping frosting all over each other and pulling faces at Jean and Marco. He scoots toward Marco a bit more, rotating so he doesn’t see their ridiculous antics.

“Such a romantic,” Marco replies.

“Yeah, maybe. Deal with it.”

“Never said it was a bad thing.”

“Ugh.”

“Don’t make me kiss that frown off your face,” Marco threatens.

“I’ll scowl more often, then.”

Jean wraps his arms around Marco, pulling him in for a tight hug.  “Happy birthday, man.”

“Thanks,” Marco says, and nuzzles into Jean’s neck a little bit.

A flash goes off, and an obnoxious laugh follows. “Gotcha!” Connie yells, holding up his camera phone, Sasha crowding over the screen to get a look at it.How he managed to operate it with all that frosting on his hands, Jean doesn’t really know.

“What the hell, man!” Jean snaps.

“Let’s add a filter!” Sasha says excitedly, ignoring Jean’s slight outburst.

“I’m sure it’s very cute,” Marco says. “Besides, I want him to put it on Facebook so I can tease you about it forever.”

“Jerk,” Jean frowns.

Marco kisses him until he feels Jean smile against his mouth, until he melts into his arms, until he is the only thing left in the room.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> ~Thank you for reading, hope you liked my not-so-subtle references to the canon verse.
> 
> i'm seriously considering writing that summer camp fic so let me know (here in the comments or on my tumblr: ricekrispyjoints.tumblr.com) if you'd be interested in reading that/have ideas because reasons
> 
> come one come all  
> all headcanons accepted  
> <3


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